


Deliverance

by retln8



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Cheating, F/M, First Love, Oral Sex, Second Chances, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retln8/pseuds/retln8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight Captain Cullen has prayed for a second chance, wishing he could take back the hateful things that he said to Genevieve Amell when she freed Kinloch Hold from Uldred's influence. Genevieve Amell wishes that she could get beyond her love for a Templar who had promised her "always" and then disappeared.  Garrett Hawke has heard stories about his cousin and the Templar, and calls his cousin to Kirkwall so that he could play cupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahlewis32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/gifts), [Siela](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Siela).



Knight Captain Cullen walked into the Hanged Man. He’d received a missive from the Champion of Kirkwall requesting to meet him there. The tavern was as ill lit and foul smelling as always. Cullen curled his lip and tried to pretend comfort where he felt none, but it wouldn’t do to appear nervous around the Champion, Hawke could smell it on you, or so they said. Hawke was holding court at a long table, his companions arrayed around him like the Viscount’s advisers. Cullen had a brief flash seeing them taking over the vacancy left by the Qunari uprising, and paled. For the most part, Hawke’s companions ignored him, they always did, except for Anders and while the mage was not hostile toward him, he wasn’t friendly either.

“Messere Hawke? You requested a meeting?” Cullen tried for bland; whatever Hawke had up his sleeve was no doubt going to be a slap in the face, causing frustration, anger or confusion within the Gallows. It always did.

“I… hm… I have a question for you. Do you mind if we talk in private?” Garrett Hawke looked at the templar captain apologetically. With the exception of Anders and Varric, the others immediately dismissed him. Hawke grabbed his staff and led the way back outside. 

Once back in the cool night air, Cullen took a deep breath and tried to cleanse himself of the Hanged Man’s pervasive odor. Hawke watched his movements and smiled slightly.

“Do you know the Hero of Ferelden?” Hawke’s question came out of the blue and stunned Cullen. Cullen’s mouth opened and shut a few times, unable to spit out the words. How exactly was he supposed to answer that? Yes, he knew the Hero, when she was a mage in the circle of Ferelden, before she left to fight at Ostagar. They had been lovers once, in love… until he had thrown it all back in her face, calling her a mistake, their love a mistake. Hawke, taking the silence as ignorance, went on. “She’s my cousin. On my mother’s side.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Cullen’s voice was raspy, choking on the words and hoping that Hawke wasn’t going to fight him for his cousin’s honor.

“She is coming into town on warden business. I was hoping to smooth the waters with the Knight Commander, because my cousin is also a mage, even if she is a warden. She told me that she needs to visit the library in the Gallows and was hoping you could help.”

“Again, I have to ask, why are you telling me this? You should be speaking to Knight Commander Meredith, herself. She will not appreciate you going around her.” Cullen tried to sound stern, but his heart was racing. It had been almost eleven years since he had seen Genevieve Amell, and the parting had not been sweet. Would she remember him? Would she have forgiven him?

“You know that Meredith and I don’t get along. I’m just afraid that she will see another mage come into the city and try to keep her in the Gallows. She might be a mage but she is a warden first. Will you help?” Garret watched the Knight Captain and watched the war in his eyes. He’d heard a little about the Knight Captain and his cousin from Anders. Garrett was concerned that because the two of them had ended on a sour note the Knight Captain would make life difficult for his cousin. It was Anders’ idea to have her deal with Cullen instead of Meredith, hoping that she would be able to get into the Gallows and give them insight into what was going on in the Kirkwall Circle. Genny had not been thrilled with the idea, but she claimed to have some legitimate research to do in the Free Marches and agreed to help. Cullen sighed softly.

“I will assist your cousin. I still think that you should talk to Meredith; you have her respect even if she doesn’t agree with you or your methods most times. Was there anything else?” Cullen sounded aggrieved.

“Since I know that Meredith is bent on capturing all of the apostates, why do you leave my companions alone?” 

“Anders is a warden, much like your cousin, and therefore, not technically an apostate. I was under the impression that the Dalish mage was a Keeper, and thus a visiting dignitary, or at least that is how I see it. You are the Champion and thus a public figure, constrained even more than a circle mage. Why should I go after any of you… unless there is another mage in your group that I didn’t know about?” Cullen smirked at Hawke and the mage smiled. Over the past decade, they had become friends of a sort. He trusted Hawke’s good sense and the man always had the best interests of Kirkwall in mind, or at least that is how it seemed. Hawke made Cullen constantly re-evaluate how Cullen saw mages. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was trying. “If that is all, Messere, I will get going.”

Cullen inclined his head toward the other man and walked off into the Kirkwall night. Garrett watched with a slight smile. Anders had spilled how Genevieve had carried a torch for a templar throughout the blight; a templar that was sent from the Ferelden circle and had found a home in Kirkwall. She had taken lovers, or so Anders had said, but there was always Cullen in the background. Garrett had a twinge of conscience about using his cousin to buy some favor with the templars, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it.

Cullen waited until he was certain that Hawke wasn’t around before leaning against a wall and felt his heart slam against his chest. He had never hoped to see Genevieve again. Now, he would have a chance to apologize for his harsh words, to be forgiven. 

He closed his eyes and could immediately picture Genevieve, as she was the last night in his arms, before she left Kinloch Hold. It was that image that he would call up whenever he sought solace in another woman’s arms. Cullen wondered if this was one last gift from the Maker and realized that he didn’t know how soon Genevieve would be arriving. Hopefully Meredith would still be awake, and unoccupied with company. Cullen shivered at the Commander’s proclivities. If she was with someone, he would just have to see her in the morning. The last time that he had interrupted, he’d been “encouraged to join.” No… the morning would be soon enough.


	2. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go as planned...

It had been over a week since Hawke had asked him about Genevieve Amell. Since then, he had shined his armor every day, and then kicked himself for thinking that she would care if his armor was shiny. He admitted that part of the need to shine his armor was an attempt to clean himself, his past. Meredith’s attentions had become more pronounced since he had informed her of the Warden Commander’s arrival. She was seen more frequently in the Gallows courtyard. She would take the time to touch his arm, his neck, his back. The armor helped a little bit, but still, he felt unclean being touched by Meredith while thinking about Genevieve.

Cullen looked around the Gallows courtyard, trying desperately to not look for either the Knight Commander or the Warden Commander. He saw movement at the gates and turned his head in time to watch Hawke and the dwarf walk in. Hawke walked right up to him with a hesitant smile on his face. 

“There is a… um… situation. I didn’t get a chance to tell her about… you. She should be here today, and per the Knight Commander’s modified orders, she will have to come into the Gallows to be cleared. I wanted to let you know, in case there is…” Hawke’s voice trailed off as he saw the Knight Commander walking toward them. The look on Cullen’s face told him everything he needed to know. “Knight Commander, how wonderful to see you again. I hope things are finally calming down after the public argument you had with Orsino.”

The Knight Commander’s face showed only disapproval for the Champion, baring her teeth in a snarl.

“Don’t.” The Knight Captain’s one word pulled Hawke up short. The one templar that Hawke and all of his companions liked and trusted, to some degree, was in trouble. Hawke raised an eyebrow but didn’t continue. The bell at the top of the Gallows tower rang out that a ship had arrived. Templars on the docks rushed to check passenger and cargo manifests. Passengers and their baggage would be unloaded to be processed before being allowed to take a ferry to the city.

Families that had been expecting passengers lined up near the gates and waited. Hawke continued to stand near the Knight Captain to prevent the Knight Commander from doing something. More than the average number of people streamed off the ships, happy sounds of reunions filled the air. Garrett Hawke shifted nervously from foot to foot. He’d been in contact, sporadically, with his cousin since the end of the Blight. He had been so happy to find out that she had survived, and then surprised that Anders knew her. Families were cleared through the lists of approved visitors and immigrants. Genevieve still hadn’t walked through the gates and Garrett was vaguely happy about it. Varric was the one to realize something was amiss. The templars usually re-entered the Gallows after clearing the ships, but they hadn’t. There was a small tremor in the ground and then an aggrieved shout. 

In a flurry of activity, the Commander of the Grey, Warden Commander of Ferelden, walked through the gates and she was obviously unhappy, as were the ten templars chasing after her. She flicked a glance at her cousin and nodded and then headed directly to Knight Commander Meredith. Genevieve Amell was a few inches shorter than Meredith but that did not make her any less imposing. Her face was a study in frustrated anger which she was more than willing to dole out to the Knight Commander. Cullen stepped in her way, creating a barrier in between his commander and the Grey Warden.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Warden Commander. I will take care of any issues between you and the order while you are here.” His warm tone showed no signs of the desire he was feeling for the woman bristling in front of him. Cullen watched as Genevieve stepped back from her anger, reining it in, then she processed who was talking to her. Her eyes traveled slowly up his armor and looked at him directly. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in her face but horror was not it. The Warden Commander stepped back, and then turned her head toward her cousin. Horror was replaced with anger. She looked back at Cullen and nodded once, then turned on her heel and walked out of the Gallows, ignoring everyone.

“Well. That went better than I had thought it would.” Garrett tried for a smile. Cullen looked as if he had been struck, pain etched his face. “She’ll come around Knight Captain, but until she does, I should go find her. She might get it into her head that she is heading back to Ferelden, and I need her here.” 

Garrett Hawke took off at a run, leaving Varric Tethras behind.

“If I might have a moment of your time, Knight Captain. I think we need to talk.” Varric was offering Cullen a way out. The Knight Captain looked back at a furious commander and nodded, letting the dwarf lead the way.


	3. Redemption

The Knight Captain of the Gallows walked into the Amell Estate holding a crumpled note in his hand. As he noticed Hawke staring at the fire, he snarled at the fact the Champion of Kirkwall looked so relaxed.

“You know… while I almost appreciate being told to come ‘immediately’ to see you, it is becoming a problem. I have duties that I have to attend to. I can’t just drop everything every time you find a new way to mess my life up.” Hawke looked up at the angry templar.

“This time it wasn’t me. Genny sent it, well… I sent it for her. She left you something and didn’t want to have it sent to the Gallows. She didn’t trust anyone at the Gallows, or so she said.” Hawke looked back into the fire. “It’s on the table over there.” He nodded toward a table against the wall. Cullen looked over at the table he had nodded toward and saw a small box.

“What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know. We couldn’t open it. Varric and I tried for over an hour.” Hawke glared at the box and then looked at Cullen. Cullen was intrigued and walked over to the box, picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He could feel the magic pulsing in the box. He tried to open the container but there wasn’t any obvious way to open it. 

Cullen smiled lightly. He and Genevieve had shared a box like this once. He’d looked for the container when she had walked out of the tower the first time, but it was gone. Now, he was holding it in his hands, or one like it. Cullen focused on the object and tried to remember the trick. Memory guided his hand, finding the small lever hidden almost flat against one side. He slid his finger lightly against it and the lid popped open. Hawke looked over his shoulder, and frowned at the contents. Cullen was stunned. 

Nestled inside the box, lying on a bed of silk was a small vial that pulsed lightly. Tucked against it was a small note.

“What is that?” Hawke was drawn toward and repulsed by the contents in the small glass.

“It’s her phylactery.” Cullen opened the note. It had only two words written on it. “Find me.”

*~*

He found her sitting on the docks looking out on the water. Cullen leaned against a warehouse wall and watched her for a minute or two. She was in the open and unarmed, although a mage was never unarmed really. He watched as a thief slid out of the shadows and moved slowly toward her, a knife glinting in his hand. Part of Cullen wanted to call out to her, or run up and stop the thief, but he was rooted to the spot, needing to see what she would do.

Genevieve dropped her hand down lazily and continued to stare at the water, oblivious to the creature sneaking up on her. When the thief got close enough, her hand shot out and gripped the creature’s wrist, turning it until it squealed in pain. The knife clattered to the ground loudly and when released, the thief ran off leaving his quarry behind. Her eyes watched the thief run and then turned back to the water. If she had seen him, she gave no sign.

He walked up behind her, letting his shadow fall across her, blocking out the harshest of the sun’s rays.

“I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure you would.” He couldn’t see her face but he could hear the sorrow in her voice. She looked down at the ground for a minute and then back at the water. Cullen’s hand lifted and touched the mink brown hair, marveling at the softness.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” She shifted on the box, moving over to give him room to sit if he wanted. Cullen waited a moment and then settled himself next to her.

“I had no right to assume you would. You told me that. Not in those words, but I knew.” He wondered why she wouldn’t look at him and fought the urge to turn her face to his, or to stand in front of her, but he wasn’t sure that he could stand to see her eyes slide away from him.

“I was cruel.” He chose to look out at the water as she did, the anonymity of a confessional.

“You were hurt, in pain, abused… tortured. I understood, I did… or at least I tried to, but then you blamed me for it. I became the cause of it all. Seeing that in your eyes. It…” Her voice caught and then broke on the last. He flicked a glance at her and saw a single tear streak down her cheek.

“I shouldn’t have blamed you. It was Uldred, and all the blood mages. I saw what they did to everyone in that tower. Then you showed up, covered in blood, just like they were. I could only see them in you. Then you were bent on saving what was left. All I could see was the abuse of magic, as I had been abused. For a long time, I have thought of mages as weapons, in and of themselves. You… your cousin… you’ve taught me that it is not the amount of power that a person wields, it is how one chooses to conduct themselves. You tried to tell me but I didn’t listen… couldn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

“I wish it were that easy. You still see us as weapons… see me as a weapon. You waited with that thief to see if I would lash out with my magic. I could feel you watching me, just as I could tell you came alone.” She slid forward moving to get up off the crate she was sitting on. His hand touched her wrist, stalling her. She looked down to see him touching her.

“Why did you send me your phylactery? Why would you do that?” Cullen spoke softly hoping that she wouldn’t leave.

“I wanted to show you that I trust you. I hoped that you would have changed, or that I wouldn’t care. I wanted… I…” Cullen lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, inhaling her scent, remembering her, remembering them.

“I have a thought. Meet me for dinner, tomorrow night. We can see if we have changed, if we can be friends. I would suggest tonight, but I have…” Cullen paused; he had to think of an excuse. He couldn’t tell her that he had been told that he had to see Meredith that evening, to protect Genevieve.

“A duty. I remember.” The small smile was sad. He remembered that look; it had always pulled at his heart. He leaned in and locked eyes with her. Silently he asked her permission, and her small nod was just as quiet. He closed the slight distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, rubbing against them gently. It lasted just moment and her eyes were hazy when he pulled back.

“I have things I must attend to, including making sure that I have time free to devote to meeting with you and learning about you again. Give me that chance, please.” He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek, the familiar feel tugged at his heart. They had promised many things to each other when they were younger. He had thought them ripped them asunder and now, the two of them were truly being given a second chance. “I will send the address to your cousin’s house. Unless you are staying elsewhere?”

“I am there for now. I am hoping that his friend is true to his word and I will soon have a place of my own, well, a place for the wardens to stay while they travel into and out of Kirkwall.”

“Does that mean that you will be re-locating here?” His tone was far too hopeful, and Cullen grimaced at the realization that he wanted her near. She smiled but shook her head.

“No, the Free Marches believe that they do not need a Grey Warden presence, but they don’t seem to mind complaining when there are darkspawn incursions and there are no wardens to protect them. You should go. I am sure that you have many things that need your attention.” Her eyes turned back to the water and the Gallows. He didn’t move, instead, he turned his body from her to face the water. He tried to see the Gallows as she did, and realized that the building looked like a prison. Her hand slid to his, fingers barely touching. His heart pounded in his chest and his soul settled. Soon, Cullen would have to make a decision, he knew that, but not today. Today was merely a small step toward healing the past.


	4. Choices

Cullen sat at his desk and turned the box over in his hands. Genevieve’s phylactery was safely nestled inside once more, swaddled in silk. He smiled as he brushed his hand over one of the faces and could feel the lightest touch of her power within. It pulsed like a heartbeat with her nearness. 

Outside his office door, he heard footsteps coming closer and quickly stashed his treasure in one of the drawers, hoping that his visitor would not be able to sense the magic within the glass. The drawer slid shut as the door opened and revealed his Knight Commander. Cullen fought not to let the woman see how he felt about her importuning, his face a bland mask.

“You have been remiss in your duties, to the circle, to the Order… to me.” The woman’s voice, once able to spur him onto works of passion, driving him to invest himself more deeply, to create a more dominant, stronger order, now made him feel nothing but revulsion, for himself as well as everything around him. Knight Commander Meredith perched on the corner of his desk right over the drawer holding the phylactery. He forced himself not to look at the drawer, easy enough because of the way she was sitting. She would need little encouragement, and was already expecting more than he wanted to give. His mind ran from the room, seeking solace in memory. Past and present merged as he felt a soft woman’s hand skim across his cheek and down the column of his throat. Cullen’s mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes closed, allowing himself to replace the image of Meredith with the memory of Genevieve.

“That’s a good boy.” Meredith’s voice broke into his reverie just before she pressed her lips against his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, her hand reached down and pressed against his flaccid staff through his armor. “You have a mere hour to fulfill your duty. I have invited the illustrious Warden Commander to meet with me, and we wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea about how this circle is run, now do we?” She punctuated her words with hard strokes, urging his body to betray him.

Cullen panicked, and stood up to lock the door. When he turned back, Meredith had unbuckled her breastplate and dropped it on the floor. She was in the process of skinning out of the rest of her armor. She was a handsome woman, but her tastes fell into the unnatural and violent far too often for Cullen’s taste. He’d had to go to a healer more than once to repair the physical damage, to himself and others, that she had caused. Hawke had convinced both Cullen and Anders to provide assistance to one another. Cullen was convinced to overlook certain illicit activities while Anders healed Meredith’s handiwork on the younger templar recruits and eventually Cullen himself.

“Come on my sweet Captain, you know what is expected. I would hate to keep our pretty warden waiting.” His Knight Commander cupped her breasts in a mockery of an innocent’s coy manner Meredith settled her rear on the edge of her desk and let her legs yawn open. Cullen said a prayer hoping that he would be able to satisfy Meredith quickly and well enough that she wouldn’t seek other prey or talk about the encounter with her guest… with Genevieve.

‘Genevieve, forgive me.’ He sent his prayer toward the phylactery, wishing that she could hear it and not come to the Gallows, to not witness this degradation.

He settled down to his task, fighting the fear and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. As if in response to his prayer, a new vision floated in front of him. His tongue flicked out and instead of the expected, he was reminded of the woman he once loved, who had come back into his life. This time, he promised himself, she would know how he truly felt. The woman beneath his ministrations moaned and writhed. The sound, the movement was wrong, but he blocked it out, wishing and imagining it was his beloved.

Meredith was displeased with the lack of fervor and gripped a handful of her knight captain’s hair, pulling harshly to bring him back to pleasuring her. His eyes snapped up to hers as he held back a sharp cry of agony. She smiled as she twisted the hair in her hand further and tears came to his eyes from the pain. 

“Where is your little mage now? I think she will be grateful for what I have taught you.” Her hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more of his tongue for her pleasure. “Will you think of me when she is bent before you? I think perhaps I should come and see, so that I know you are doing it right.” 

Cullen closed his eyes again, hoping that he could please Meredith enough that she would forget talking to Genevieve. Another sharp twist had his eyes open wide and locked on hers. She seemed to like watching him beg her silently. He bit at the small nub at the top of her cleft, sharply, causing her to cry out with joy. Her legs wrapped around his head and squeezed as she moved closer to release. Cullen couldn’t breathe without inhaling her stifling scent, bile rose in his throat as he continued to pleasure the Commander. Suddenly she pulled him back harshly by the hair.

“Enough. Strip Captain. I want to see you hard and ready for me.”

Her words stung as much as the pulling of his hair did. If he wasn’t as hard as she wanted she would ‘assist’ him by stroking his shaft and pulling on his balls to the point of pain. He would have to focus on keeping himself hard even as the thought of entering her threatened to make him soft and useless. He gripped his staff tightly, once he had undressed and closed his eyes for a moment calling on an image of Genevieve to make him grow thicker and longer. If Meredith did not talk, he might be able to convince his body that he was plunging into the mage he dreamed of often. 

“Captain! To me, let me see you.” Her voice was harsh, and seemed to be changing into a creature wholly different from the woman he’d bedded years ago. Meredith slid off his desk and onto her knees, taking him in to her mouth and pulling him harshly. She liked to hear him hiss in pain and took some of her pleasure from making it more difficult to perform. One hand scratched lazily between his legs, the sharpened nails already causing needle like pain to bloom. The other gripped his buttocks, the nails pushing in until they pierced skin and then she would paint his body with his own blood. Cullen closed his eyes again and she nipped sharply at the head of cock. He would have to watch and endure; there would be no hiding in memory today.

When she was satisfied that he would be stiff enough to please, she pushed him into his chair and then straddled him. He focused on merely keeping himself hard long enough for her to come and then they would be done, he hoped.

“Tell me about your little mage. Your old Knight Commander was not forthcoming with details. Did you share her with the others? Did you watch as she fucked Greagoir? Did she cry out?” The words slapped at him and made him wonder if Geneveive had done those things. She had been an innocent when they has first come together, but those long times when he would be sent from the tower with others, had she been intimate with another? Doubts and fears started to assail him and he had to pull his focus back so that he could do as Meredith wanted. Her questions kept coming, more depraved and licentious than the last. Finally she had worked herself to the point of release. Her nails had ripped along his arm and blood dripped from his chest and shoulders. He felt nothing but a haze of pain and a feeling of disgust. Satisfied that she had ripped away another piece of Cullen she got up and dressed and then walked out of his office, leaving his door open and the Captain undressed.

*~*

Cullen was grateful for the washroom he’d added to his office quarters. In a small side alcove, was his cot and a wash stand. He’d thrown open the windows to erase the stink of sex and vomit. He wouldn’t be able to get to a healer outside of the Gallows before Genevieve arrived. Cullen had managed to keep from throwing up until after Meredith had dressed and left. He had then relocked the door and been ill. Cullen scrubbed at his face and saw the scratches and bite marks that Meredith had left behind. 

Blood was still running down his arm where the Commander had drug her nails harshly along the lines of his muscles. He’d pumped inside Meredith until she achieved release and then immediately pulled out and his erection had softened. The woman either didn’t care or didn’t notice. The kiss Meredith had placed on his cheek after she had dressed was almost as sweet as the ones she’d given when they’d first come together. Remembering how he’d once been infatuated with his lovely older Commander made his stomach cramp as he tried to reconcile that woman with the sadistic Commander he was now forced to continue to please. Bile rose up and he vomited again, blood from scratches and cuts mixed with the mess as Cullen swayed on his feet.

He cleaned up the mess quickly, hoping that the clean air from outside would clear the air before anyone came into his office. He swabbed the worst of the damage with clean water before trying to dress. His shield arm was shot, and would be useless until he saw a healer. There must have been something that the Knight Commander had done to her nails that was causing the numbness and weakness. He tried making a fist but his hand wouldn’t close all the way and tingled painfully when he tried. Cullen closed the door between the sleeping alcove and his office. Tears fell from his eyes as his whole body shook. Naked and bleeding, he knelt on the stone floor and prayed for deliverance. From the office desk, he felt the pulse of the phylactery. 

Slowly he stood up, dressed his wounds and then his body. He opened the door and resumed his seat at his desk. He looked at the papers that had been pushed from the desk during sex and recollected after. None of the words made sense as his mind continued to mire itself in self-hatred and revulsion. Knowing he would not be able to concentrate until everything was once again clean and in its proper place, he tucked the papers away and proceeded to clean the whole room, scrubbing at the floors and washing his desk and chair. As he worked, he recited the Chant of Light in his head. Finally satisfied, he unlocked his door, pulled his papers out and started to work on tasks that the Knight Commander had interrupted.

A soft knock at the door drew his gaze up. Leaning against the door was Genevieve, a slight smile played on her face.

“Hard at work, as usual, I see.” Her gray eyes, often so serious, sparkled with humor. It didn’t last long, her eyes swept across him and then narrowed as she sensed his physical pain. “What happened?” 

He didn’t want to tell her, not yet. He couldn’t deal with her pity or revulsion. Instead, Cullen grimaced and tried to keep her from investigating to deeply. Genevieve didn’t allow him to put her off and reached out with her magic, testing and touching with her healing skill. Without ever laying her hands on him, he could feel the wounds closing with a gentle ease; what had been done to him was undone. Her eyes never left his and when the last of the injuries were healed she finally stepped fully into the room.

Her eyes roamed over the spartan furnishings and flicked her eyes toward his small living quarters. Instead of approaching the desk, she walked along the edges of the room, past him and looked out the window, leaning on the sill.

Cullen watched the elegant movement of the warden mage. Genevieve had always moved with grace and ease, floating across the floors of Kinloch Hold. Now, that grace had an overlay of a warrior’s balance. She was aware of everything, just as he once had been. He followed her movements without leaving his chair, wanting to go to her, but feeling tainted by his recent encounter. It kept him rooted to his seat, but if she noticed, she said nothing.

“Your Knight Commander requested my presence, but then told me that I was to speak with you about my request to explore your library.” As she spoke, he wondered exactly what Meredith had said.

“Would you like to go now? Or schedule your visit for another time.” He tried to clear his throat which made her look over her shoulder at him. 

“I think we should schedule my visit for another time. When you aren’t so busy.” She smiled lightly trying to put them both at ease.

“You aren’t leaving now though, are you?” He needed her there. Her presence had soothed him and eased his soul. She pushed off the window sill and walked toward him, casually running her fingers across his shoulder when she got close.

“I should. I have other work, as do you.” Her smile held regret as started toward the door. Her movement jerked him out of his seat and he rushed toward her. He made it to the door just before she did, and shut it quickly, blocking her exit. Genevieve stopped more than an arm’s length from him, crossed her arms and smirked at him. He tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “We are still on for dinner tomorrow, aren’t we? One of the things I need to do is to purchase a new dress. I would like to look nice for you.”

He touched her face carefully, needing to feel her. She closed the space between them and kissed Cullen; her lips barely brushing his. Genevieve smiled as his eyes slipped closed. It was obvious both of them wanted more but she wasn’t ready yet, and they both knew it. She started to back away but he slipped his arm around her waist and held her close, needing the comfort. Genevieve leaned in slightly and could smell, just faintly, the activity that he had tried to hide from her. She didn’t allow herself to stiffen in his arms, as she once would have. She understood that she was a newcomer into his life and had no real place in it, not yet. Cullen sensed her pulling away and opened his eyes, trying to show her that his feelings had not changed.

“You always look nice; you shouldn’t have to make any special effort. It’s just me.” Cullen smiled the words, trying to smooth over whatever breach had just occurred. Genevieve swallowed hard and forced a smile for him.

“I would like to make the effort. It has been a long time since I have wanted to do that.”

“Then you should do as you please.” He wanted her to stay near him, against him, anything. Cullen just couldn’t fathom her leaving once more. She sensed this too and kissed him again, soft, teasing close-mouthed kisses. When her mouth slipped from his, he sighed his moan.

“I will see you tomorrow? Just you and I?” She spoke against his ear and he could feel himself stiffen with need. Not trusting his voice, he nodded against her, their cheeks brushing. Cullen could feel her smile and felt his own growing in return. Then she stepped back and looked at him expectantly. With exaggerated pomp, he opened the door to allow her to leave. She smiled at him and left his office. He heard Meredith call out a question to the departing visitor. Neither the question nor the answer was clear, but he didn’t care. He locked the door and daydreamed for a while, about a small house with a pretty garden and the sound of laughter, Genevieve’s laughter, filling the air.


	5. Steps

Cullen looked around his small house and wondered if Genevieve would like it, or had she become used to the castles like in Denerim or Amaranthine. He had an urge to bash his head against the wall. For the fifth time in the past hour he walked near the door and wondered if she was coming. He'd used the same messenger to deliver his note to Genevieve that he used to deliver notes to Hawke. 

Cullen walked back to the dining table and touched the flowers that he'd had delivered for her. The delicate purple and white petals of Fade's Hearts brightened the room. He smiled as he remembered the first time he had brought her a small bouquet. Genevieve's smile had shone like the sun and Cullen remembered how hard his heart had beaten in his chest. Her friends had been envious of the flowers and one by one, she had given away the blooms, all of them except the Fade's Heart flowers. He'd asked her why she'd kept those out of all of them. Her answer had confused him; she said that they looked like joy. Anytime that he could sneak out and pick flowers for her, he'd remembered to only pick those blooms. She had never given another flower away. Looking at the bright petals his heart pounded in his chest once more and he wondered if he'd misremembered, or if she had a new favorite flower. He hadn't asked, and was now having second thoughts.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention to the front of the house and he forced himself to slow his step, slow his breathing before answering it.

She stood on the other side; her brown hair caught the last bits of sunlight as it slipped behind the Viscount's keep. Genevieve smiled shyly, her hands behind her back. The years fell away as he looked at her. She had changed so little, the years adding to her elegance. Her nobility of breeding was even more apparent than he'd ever seen in the circle. His eyes skimmed over her body, taking in the forest green dress that just touched the ground, then jerked back to her face. 

"Am I early? Late? Did I get the day wrong?" Her voice trembled a bit as she spoke, making him smile.

"No... I... come in. You are simply stunning." He held out his hand for hers and was surprised to have a bottle of wine passed to him. Cullen moved it to his other hand and then captured her hand in his. Now that she was there, he wanted to see if she approved of his home. He'd put a little more of himself in the small townhouse than in his office at the Gallows. It had taken almost five years to have enough money to purchase the home and another year to furnish it as he had wished. The walls were washed in a pale blue and the furniture was made up of simple lines and gleaming wood. She ran a finger along one of the side tables in the hall with an unfocused smile. Her eyes took in each room he walked her though and showed her delight in seeing this side of the templar.

"Did your... um... who decorated your home?" She'd winced at the verbal stumble but had recovered her smile when turned to face her.

"This is my home, and I live here alone." He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Velvet gray eyes lifted to his. Within the smoky depths he saw hope and he felt the need for her rise within him.

"But the garden, the furnishings..." Her eyes flicked to the table and saw the purple and white flowers. Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears.

"All mine. I work in the garden when I can, it clears my mind." His voice was soft and husky with want.

"You picked these? I've always..." She wanted to put some space between them, he was moving too fast. Genevieve knew he had another, she'd smelled it on him the day before, and she didn't want to be put in an awkward position between lovers. She wasn't sure that she could resist him or that she truly wanted to, but Genevieve took a step away so that she could think more clearly. 

"Are they still your favorite? I tried to remember." He watched her hand shake as she touched the delicate petals of the blooms. She couldn't speak and just nodded her head.

"I've thought of nothing but you since I saw you yesterday. It made my paperwork take twice as long. I couldn't wait for today to come, to see you again. Genevieve?" He'd walked up behind her and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. She turned in towards him and placed a hand on his chest. 

Genevieve's eyes widened a bit more as she registered that he wasn't wearing his armor. Her fingers explored the soft leather coat he was wearing, and the fine linen shirt beneath it. His hand covered hers, pinning her hand against his heart. Cullen leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips nibbling softly and then slowly demanding more from her. His tongue touched the seam of her mouth, asking for entrance. Her lips parted and they both moaned in surrender. 

"Cullen." His name was a prayer on her lips and he wanted to hear it just that way again. Knowing that she needed time, space and the truth from him, he backed away.

"I think that we need to eat something and get to know each other again." It cost him to say it; he wanted to kiss her again, now and forever. Everything he had felt more than ten years ago rushed through him. He remembered how it felt to have her beneath him and he wanted that, but this time he wanted more as well. Her hand ran up behind his neck and she twined her fingers in his hair, pulling him slightly closer to her.

"Not yet." She leaned into him and claimed his lips. She had never taken the lead in their relationship before and while it made him nervous, it thrilled him too. Experience told him to expect pain to accompany the pleasure but after she had kissed him a little longer, she sighed and stepped back. Her withdrawal as keen a pain as a slap, but his rational mind told him that this was for the best. "Dinner?"

He smiled, hoped, wanted and needed something more. He pulled out her chair and waited until she sat. He kissed her hand and then walked into the kitchen to get dinner. Cullen looked back into the dining room and watched as she touched the petals of the Fade's Heart. He leaned against the door holding the filled dinner plates. She could feel his gaze on her and turned her head, tilting it to the side, and looked at him questioningly. Cullen couldn't speak and shook his head. He walked in and set the plate in front of her, letting his fingers linger on hers. Their fingers tangled together, and he took a measure of peace from the simple touch.

"So," he said, sitting down adjacent to her, "tell me what you've been doing the past ten... eleven years." It was obvious that he was as nervous about this part of the meal as she. Genevieve grinned at him. 

"Well... there was this little thing, called a Blight." He laughed at the sarcasm in her voice. 

*~*

Cullen listened to her tales about traveling all over Ferelden, asking questions about her companions, chuckling at her obvious lighthearted exasperation over what had to be difficult situations. His heart almost stopped when she talked about facing the archdemon on the top of Fort Drakon as he realized that she might have been truly lost to him. He'd managed to not reach for her hand and kiss it in reassurance. Genevieve paused and looked at his fingers as they twitched toward her. She smiled softly and then reached out for his hand, twining her fingers with his. When she touched his skin, she could feel his fear for what had happened. She squeezed them lightly before continuing with her tale. 

He saw a touch of sorrow on her face as she talked about how Alistair had become king and married Calian's widow. She bit her lip lightly as she remembered but did not speak of her long conversations with Alistair, nor of her promise to go with him when he was summoned to the deep roads for the calling. Cullen was grateful that she was not pushing him away nor had she released his hand. When her voice had softened to a mere whisper he lifted her hand and kissed her palm. She blushed and looked away.

"Don't look away, please Genevieve." He spoke against her palm, his lips rubbing against her skin.

"Cullen. I..." Her eyes turned to him, pleading.

"Shhhhh... just look at me." The two of them sat in silence as he continued to place small, light, kisses on her palm, breathing in her scent. Eventually she got up from her chair, keeping her hand in his. His face turned up toward her as she moved. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed his lips, her breathing heavy, need turning her eyes to swirling dark mist sparked with starlight. He released her hand and pulled her into his lap, one hand holding her steady while the other played with silky soft hair. Movements were deliberate, each pushing the other ever closer to consummation. Her hands held his leather coat tightly in her fists; her bottom squirmed against him, making him hard. 

"We should stop. I don't want to, but we should. I don't know anything about what you have done for the past decade. I've been building the wardens, living in Amaranthine and wishing I could speak to you. Now that I'm here..." He leaned in and claimed her mouth again, pressing hard against her, stilling her words. His teeth nipped lightly at her lips, making her moan and cry out slightly. The cry stopped him, she was trembling but he couldn't tell if it was fear or want. He backed up and looked at her. Tears streaked down Genevieve's cheeks.

"Oh, Maker! I'm... I'm so sorry." Cullen started to apologize, but she shook her head. Her fingers released his jacket and danced across his skin. He wanted her, now, but he would force himself to wait if she needed to.

"What have you been doing for the past decade, Cullen?" Her voice was soft as if she really didn't want to know.

"I have been a templar, as I was before in Ferelden." His eyes held a question. Genevieve made a decision and leaned in to kiss him gently. Her heart quailed at the thought of him having another lover but she could not resist him any more than she could stop breathing. She was certain that knowing he had another share his bed wouldn't be enough to keep her from seeking comfort and passion in his arms, but she would have to try to keep her heart safe from harm.

"What would you like to do now, Cullen?" She hadn't moved off his lap, her fingers were still warm against him, kept from his skin by his shirt. He couldn't speak, wondering what she was thinking and what she had decided. Cullen leaned in and kissed her gently; his arms moved to pull her close and stood up, cradling her. Letting instinct guide his steps out of the dining room and toward his private rooms.

"You can tell me to stop." He looked into her eyes, wanting direction, but she was silent in his arms. "Should I stop, Genevieve?"

Instead of answering in words she leaned into him, and pressed her lips to his. Cullen had to pull back, to focus on the stairs leading to his bedroom. Each step was a test of his patience, her warm body tempting him, drawing his lips and concentration down to the softness of her skin. He reached the top of the stairs, stumbling only once, but never dropping his precious burden. He shifted Genevieve carefully in his arms as he passed through open door of his bedroom.

The room was dark as he walked in but he knew where the bed was. He set her down reluctantly and turned to light one of the candles. She waited until he lit the first candle before speaking.

"Cullen? Would you like me to light the rest of them?" He looked at her for a minute before speaking, as if remembering suddenly that she was a mage. Cullen's desire warred with his deeply ingrained fear of magic. If he said yes, he was encouraging flagrant use of magic, if he said no, then he might lose her forever. 

"Only one, please. I just want to be able to see you." He smiled as he said it and she nodded, her power reached out to touch a candle on the other side of the bed. Cullen knelt down between her knees and looked up at her. He wanted her to ask him to stay with her, to be with her.

"Can you see me? Really see me?" The words were whispered and she bit her lip as she spoke. Genevieve was as beautiful as she had been in the circle. He could see the light lines around her eyes and mouth, most of which were caused by smiling. She always smiled, he remembered that. The smiles she had given him always had something special in it, different than those she gave others. Memories of him seeking her out whenever he could just to see that flash of light she reserved just for him played in his mind. 

"You were the only thing I could see once. Since you came back... since you came here, all I have wanted to see was you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, far beyond looks. I should have told you that then." He let her see his sorrow for his past self. She reached out and stroked his cheek. He stood up and then pulled her up off the bed. He couldn't stop from asking her what was most on his mind. "Let me make love to you, Genevieve."

She took his hands and placed them on the laces of her dress, her fingers brushing against his. Genevieve's voice dropped to a whisper as she spoke.

"Make love to me Cullen. Let me remember. Help me forget."


	6. Submission

His hands shook as they held the dress laces. Her smaller hands reached up and touched his. Genevieve looked up and saw fear in his eyes.

“Cullen? I want you, but I can wait if you need me to.” The breath he had been holding was released, her sympathy and understanding was too much. He needed to show her who was in control. Cullen chuckled softly and then released her laces. His hands slid down her sides and gripped her waist. Roughly he pulled her in close and ravaged her mouth. She let him do what he wanted; becoming completely submissive for him. He moaned against her and then thrust his tongue into her mouth. His hand speared into her hair and gripped it tightly, using it to move her so that he could deepen his kiss. She wanted to thrust her fingers into his hair, but she forced herself to stop. ‘He is not Alistair, he doesn’t need you to lead him,’ she thought. Cullen watched her through slitted eyes and knew her attention had slipped. He pulled on her hair harder, making her gasp with pleasure and pain. Her hands fluttered again, wanting to move, to participate. Cullen released her for a mere moment before he grabbed her wrists. He grinned at her surprised gasp when he pulled her hands behind her. Then he held both wrists in one hand and slid his other hand up her body, roughly teasing her breasts before skimming a calloused finger along her jaw. He leaned away from her and studied Genevieve as she panted heavily, her eyes dark with desire. 

“What do you want Genevieve?” His voice purred her name before he swooped in and placed hot sucking kisses on her throat. “Tell me.” He spoke against her skin and then pressed his teeth against her neck, biting slightly. Cullen grumbled a chuckle as she purred and pressed against him.

His grip tightened around her wrists and she gasped as pain turned into pleasure. Her back arched and rubbed her breasts against his chest. He wanted to moan along with her, to let her touch him gently, but the decade of being punished for allowing a mage to be equal to a templar was hard to dismiss.

“Please, Cullen.” Her voice was breathy and each word was a moan. “I want you. I’ve always wanted…” 

He silenced her words with a hard kiss, crushing her lips painfully beneath his. 

“I have spent more than ten years wanting you in my arms, missing what we had, craving more.” His voice was husky with desire and she felt it rub along her spine. He released Genevieve’s arms and she skimmed her hands up his chest. She pushed her hands beneath the fine leather of the coat, her eyes looking into his, asking for permission to undress him. He nodded curtly. Genevieve’s hands pushed the jacket off his shoulders, forcing it down his arms. She leaned against him as she moved, seeking the warmth of his body, but not rubbing against him as she wanted. Cullen’s head dropped to her neck and started to nibble on the exposed skin. When she pressed her breasts more firmly against his chest, he bit with just enough force that she stopped. His hands returned to the laces of her dress and pulled with exquisite care and indolence. His jacket removed, she stepped back and away from him, watching as she folded it lovingly before walking head down into the darkness.

“Genevieve?” He voice was quiet and dark, knowing that she wouldn’t walk far. She returned, still clothed though her laces were loose. As she walked back into the pool of candlelight he was grateful she had cut her hair, her pale shoulders and throat were visible and begging to be kissed.

Her smile was soft and inviting. The small show of care for his things, for him, was even more attractive than her obvious desire. Again his decade long training faltered a bit, her downcast eyes showed that she wanted him to take charge, to take her as he wanted. She glided back to him and he opened his arms to her. Without hesitation, she walked into his embrace. He returned to loosening her dress laces and then drew the fabric off her shoulders, kissing and biting the skin he bared. Cullen grinned as he felt her fingers tunnel into his hair, holding him tight to her, but he pulled her hands from him and feigning displeasure over her presumption. Cullen jerked the dress down, and frowned as he realized that the dress wouldn’t drop away from her hands. He pulled her hands up, stretching her arms but hiding her breasts. Laces at her wrists that he had thought decorations fell away as he pulled them loose with sweet haste. Cullen then pulled her arms down and stripped the dress from her. Genevieve’s dress was heaped at her feet. He took a moment to rub his palms over the dusky pink nipples that he could just see through the thin linen of her chemise. She bit her lip and moaned, swaying slightly. His deft fingers trapped those peaks and twisted them slightly, enjoying her cries and the pleasure he saw in her eyes. 

Somewhere, deep in his mind he could hear the voice of his old mentor. This voice had reminded him that love and respect were intertwined and that she had given him both. Cullen didn’t leave off teasing her breasts but his touch gentled a bit, caressing her. Genevieve turned her face up to his and he pressed his lips passionately to hers. His hands shifted from her breasts and moved to circle around her, pulling her close. Hesitantly she lifted her hands once more to circle his neck and entangle her fingers in his hair. Her eyes searched his for disapproval, but he leaned into her tentative caresses and closed his eyes in pleasure. 

His need was pushing him to take her as she stood. Fighting his desire, he bent slightly and scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his body and feeling her heart thrumming against his chest. He stepped around her discarded clothing and placed her on his bed. Cullen leaned back and let his eyes roam over her; her body writhing gently as he continued to caress her. He leaned in and kissed her hard, sucking gently at her lower lip. She moaned against him and he grinned. Cullen forced himself to back away from her and show her the same courtesy she had with his jacket.

She rolled slightly on the bed to watch as he picked up her dress and folded it over his arm. He disappeared into the darkness to place it on the same chair as his jacket. Her eyes seemed to search the gloom to watch him toe off his boots. He paused and looked at Genevieve on his bed and his heart hammered heavily in his chest, she was right where he had always dreamed of. Candlelight stroked her skin making it glow gently. Cullen felt himself grow heavier and more impatient as his cock throbbed in his leather breechess. She bit her lip and then called out softly.

Cullen hastened back into the light, slowing when she met his eyes, finally settling on the bed near her feet. His fingers unlaced her slippers and set them on the floor, kissing her ankles and running his hands up the silky softness of her skin. With ease he pushed her chemise up her legs, tasting the skin that he exposed. His tongue flicked out tickling her before he placed hot, open mouthed, biting kisses on her inner thigh. Her hips bucked as he did so, seeking completion. When he looked across her body, over the crumpled, thin fabric of her shift he saw the look he’d ached to see for an eternity. His hands moved upward, to still her movements, stopping just over her small clothes. His fingers curled under the soft linen and his eyes closed with pleasure as he felt the petal soft skin beneath. He waited for a moment, partially reclined between her gently spread thighs to thank the Maker for returning her to him, and then tried to control his breathing and himself.

“Cullen.” His name, once again, merely a prayer on her lips. His body throbbed in response and he was driven to continue to undress the woman before him. Cullen grinned as he realized his one hand, that had curled softly around her small clothes, would not leave its spot; instead it rubbed against the skin it had found, increasing the stimulation for both of them. He lifted her chemise off and freed her body from its constraints before returning to his exploration of her lush curves. Eventually he released his hold on her small clothes and pulled her onto his lap. She grinned and then moaned into his shoulder as her legs straddled him, pressing her body against him. Her hands pulled at his shirt, freeing it from his trousers. Her desire roughened hands jerked the fabric up so that her bare breasts could finally press against his hard chest. Understanding that she needed him as much as he wanted her, he finally pulled the shirt up over his head. 

His trousers and small clothes were still in her way and impatient hands sought the laces of his leather breeches. He laughed and rolled so that she was on her back and he was still between her legs. Gently he thrust against her, promising her a slow, exquisite ride. Cullen slipped across her body, thrilled to feel the pebbled tips of her breasts stroking his skin. His mouth sought out those tips and laved them with his tongue, encouraging them to pull even tighter under his ministrations. One hand caressed her breasts, the other fought his laces and when he finally untied them, he stood and stripped off the last of his clothes. She gasped with pleasure as he felt her eyes rove over his nude form. Instead of returning immediately to his place between her thighs, he stretched out next to her and resumed his unhurried exploration. Cullen wanted Genevieve to either achieve release or be near to it before he entered her.

Genevieve had other plans though, and she wrapped her hands around his thick cock, stroking it gently. He moaned softly and she scooted down to place kisses along the velvet skin which she held in both hands. One hand cupped the back of her head and his fingers tangled in silky strands. He groaned as she opened her mouth and guided him inside. Her tongue pressed against the vein on the underside of his staff as her head bobbed up and down its length. One hand moved to play with the soft skin that hung below. Cullen shuddered knowing that he couldn’t last long in her mouth and he wanted it to last for both of them. Gently he slipped out of her mouth and pulled Genevieve up so that he could kiss her, to thank her for her attentions. Then he rolled her onto her back and moved down her body, kissing and licking a path to the top of her small clothes. With both hands he drew them down and off her legs. One hand tossed them across the room the other sought the cleft between her legs, his fingers sliding gently into the wetness, opening her and finding her slick and ready.

Cullen watched as her eyes unfocused and with a delight he hadn’t felt in years his mouth kissed that delicate and small opening. She smelled like honeyed spice to him and his tongue flicked feverishly into her. He drank her as if he had been dying of thirst, but he was always conscious of the fact that she was unlike any other woman he had lain with. She was delicate, and he nibbled where before he would have bit, licked and stroked where he would have pressed or pinched. He was treated to more of her sweet nectar with his gentle ministrations even as her hips rocked against him. Genevieve’s soft moans grew in frequency and intensity as she built toward her release. 

She tried to pull him up and begged him to enter her, but he refused, seeking a flood of her sweetness before he would stretch her around him. His name had become a chant as she rocketed toward the void, her thighs pressed against the sides of his head and he welcomed the pressure. Suddenly, on a whispered scream, she flooded his mouth with liquid and he hurriedly drank it down. Cullen continued to kiss her gently at that soft opening, and began to work her wider with his fingers. She shivered as her body came back to itself, the room feeling cool. 

This time, when Genevieve pulled at Cullen, begging him to move up her body he did so. She gasped slightly as she felt the large head of his thick cock pressing against the impossibly tight opening. Cullen gritted his teeth and slowed his movments, easing himself inside her. Genevieve had other plans though and rocked her hips upward, pulling him deep into her body. She gasped with pain and he stilled. She looked up at him and smiled, but even that smile was colored with suffering.

“I had forgotten how large you are.” She grinned when she said it, but spoke through gritted teeth. His brows furrowed as he worried about hurting her.

“Are you in pain, love?” The endearment startled her, not expecting to hear it again or so soon, but she kissed him ardently.

“I will only be hurt if you stop now… love.” The term of affection was halting but honestly said and he relaxed a bit. He eased forward, pushing further in at a snail’s pace, giving her time to accommodate his girth. Her moan this time was of pleasure and not pain. Slowly he retreated before pushing in further, using her own sweet wetness to ease his way. After an eternity he was seated fully in her. Her legs wrapped themselves around his hips, shifting her position and allowing him in even deeper. Her skin vibrated with her magic and intensified the pleasure for both of them. They moved together slowly, enjoying the intimate dance they shared. When Genevieve could sense him fighting his climax, she used a touch of her magic to hold it back. He noticed the pressure ease and then smiled, knowing that she was doing it for him not her. Her breathing started to hitch and she begged him for release. Cullen’s hips bucked against hers, picking up speed and pressure. Genevieve met him thrust for thrust, her moans and pleading spurring him to move faster and harder until his body was pounding into hers.

“Genevieve!” His shout was the only warning she had as he spilled himself deeply into her womb. She responded by gripping his staff in a velvet vise, pulling at him and covering him in her own climax. He rode her hard as want and need continued to drive him. Slowly his movements eased and he rolled the two of them over, until she was on top of him. Her gentle weight drove the last of the darkness from his soul. He continued to kiss her gently. As the need to be within her faded, he was reluctant to let her go, fearing that she would dress and leave him. 

“Cullen? May I stay… for a while?” Her question was hesitant, fearful that now he was replete he would want her gone. He looked into her eyes and his heart leapt at the love he saw there.

“My love, stay forever.” He held her tightly to him, allowing tears of relief to slide down his cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers and replaced the wetness with soft kisses. She rolled off of him and snuggled into his side, making his shoulder her pillow. One arm held her close while the other stroked her silky hair. Comfortable, sated and in love, Cullen drifted off to sleep and hoped that she would still be there when he woke.


End file.
